


carry a sword, grant a crown

by firecube



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:38:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5425880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firecube/pseuds/firecube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Awashima truly was a woman owned by her own sense of duty.  Why else would he have granted her this post, thus putting, along with a tangible crown of importance, the dense weight of various obligations on her back?</p>
            </blockquote>





	carry a sword, grant a crown

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: K Project and its characters belong to GoRa.  
> I’ve been wanting to do an analysis by Munakata on his indispensible Lieutenant for a while now, and finally, here you have it.  
> I also took the opportunity for a cameo of Fushimi and Yata. I need to write a fic for those two sometime.

Awashima truly was a woman owned by her own sense of duty. Why else would he have granted her this post, thus putting, along with a tangible crown of importance, the dense weight of various obligations on her back?

And the exquisiteness and solidity of this crown, in turn reaping the density, urgency, and severity (among other things) of that so-called “weight,” he knew was insubstantial compared to that of his own. This wasn’t a delusion or exaggeration stemmed from arrogance, but rather, the inevitable truth. While the others knew, that didn’t necessarily mean that they _understood._ No one quite understood but the Kings themselves, and neither did they understand, if one could pardon the Irishism. Rather, it could be said that Kings were the only ones who could truly _know_ what it felt like to be a King. Others might believe they could imagine what that’s like, but he knew that they were mistaken.

_No one could possibly know what it’s like . . . that thing floating over one’s head, taunting them with the weight of it and the impending doom it carries, fully letting them know that it’s practically—no, literally—a part of them no less—honestly, much more—than an arm or leg. And then that person knows . . . that no longer can they allow themself to belong to themself. Not that that’s even the half of it. Yes, no one could possibly know it, let alone understand it, if they have not been given the gift (or curse, depending on the qualities and circumstances of the individual) of one of seven auras by the Slate._

Nevertheless, on the matter of Awashima, it wasn’t as if every deadly capable, dutiful, and efficient person should have to be a King. They very well shouldn’t be. And a King needs his subordinates. Come Hell or high water, Munakata’s Lieutenant would most decidedly be there for whatever SCEPTER 4 and its Captain may hold essential—to the absolute utmost of her abilities, of course.

Now the woman undoubtedly had faults about her, which Munakata could certainly list off if he had so desired. But faults were an indispensible component of human nature. The difference in Munakata was that he carefully hid—(or, perhaps, on occasion, encrypted)—his flaws as to uphold his obligatory impeccability.

And, to mention just one of the reasons as to which Munakata admired her so, Awashima, not unlike Munakata himself, overcame/ignored all personal convictions detrimental to her duties, which might be categorized as faults at times. Why, when all was said and done, her stoic, cold façade which, although necessary for the conviction she placed in the utmost importance, disregarded the majority of her own individual feelings and desires could be considered a fault in itself, as that is the type of thing many a person comes to regret.

_In truth, and to be blunt, the preferential option is to have no personal convictions detrimental to your duties at all._

_(Not perfect, but preferential.)_

Munakata fit another piece into the puzzle he was currently working on, small enough to be placed atop his desk and featuring a pitch-black sky peppered with stars of multiple colors.

All the information Awashima was feeding him he was easily absorbing. It seemed that today’s entire duties involved mild ruckus caused by HOMRA, under the assumption that nothing emergent was going to present itself during the short remainder of the day.

“Very good, Awashima-kun. I trust you will find something of at least some degree of productivity for the others to occupy themselves with for the remainder of the day.”

He dismissed her with a casual but elegant wave of his hand, still keeping his visual attentions on the puzzle.

“There is one more thing I wish to alert you of, Captain.”

Munakata looked up. “Alert? Please tell me of this thing you wish to alert me of.”

Awashima retrieved her PDA from her breast pocket and projected an image of two teenage boys sitting at a street curb, obviously unaware that they were being photographed. One with dull grayish hair donned rectangular-framed glasses and a half-condescending, half-disinterested scowl as he listened to the other, a shorter boy with bright auburn hair, ramble angrily with a fist clenched in front of his face.

“My, these children seem familiar.” Munakata rested his elbows atop the desk and leaned forward slightly, interlaced hands resting under his chin.

“Yes, sir. Their names are Fushimi Saruhiko and Yata Misaki. I believe you may be recalling them from a past discrepancy involving gang violence, in which they were inadvertently involved. The two were outsiders, living together on the streets, but it seems that very recently they were taken in by HOMRA, therefore meaning that they are now members of the Red Clan and are under the influence of the Red King.”

“I see. Is there any reason that this should arouse exceptional concern?”

“Possibly, sir.”

“Please do explain.”

She hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. Munakata found himself slightly suspicious. Awashima was somehow bothered by this in a way or for reasons that she either couldn’t or wouldn’t explain to him.

“How should I put it? I suppose I should daresay that Fushimi Saruhiko and Yata Misaki are not ordained to be average, run-of-the-mill members of HOMRA.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that they may hold ranks or treatment such as that of Kusanagi Izumo or Totsuka Tatara.”

“Oh, yes, I see now. This means that SCEPTER 4 should be prepared to keep a watch on the two. Still, no reason for too much concern. However, I will keep what you have told me in mind. Is that all you have for me today, Awashima-kun?”

Usually, he would have asked her what exactly made her think this, but somehow sensed that it was best to leave it at that for now. He could always ask her later when another chance presented itself.

“Yes, sir. Please excuse me for the trouble.”

Munakata had returned to his initial position at the desk, fitting a piece of the puzzle in place with one finger and waving a gesture of dismissal with the other. “No, no. It’s all quite well, Awashima-kun. You may take your leave.”

“Yes, sir.” She gave a curt bow before grasping the door handle, turning back around politely before shutting it back.

END


End file.
